Hands
Written for Jade Star's challenge in the HPFC forum.
Disclaimer: I own a bowl of Mr. Noodles, my cellphone, and the clothes I'm wearing. I don't own The Beatles, Draco, The Golden Trio, Golden Girls, or anything else recognizable.
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They're in a line. A "Love Is All You Need" line, holding hands and fighting. How the hell does three fight and hold hands like hippies at the same time? Like stairs, a line from tallest to shortest. Weasley, Potter, and Granger. It's the way it's always been. Potter, flanked by Weasley and Granger. Pathetic little Scarhead. Can't even fight alone, he needs bookworm Granger and useless piece of shite: Weasley.
I watch them fight, a hit of amusement playing at my lips. I snicker to myself, hoping nobody can hear me. They're facing off to the Dark Lord. I watched, perplexed as Harry threatens him. Nobody, I repeat, nobody stands up to the dark lord and lives.
The Dark Lord raises his wand and sneers. His yellow teeth flashing in the candle-light. I grimace. I know what's gonna happen. Voldemort kills Harry, the other two clowns cry and scream. They shout for justice. They somehow use their The Beatles song power and kill him. I've seen it before. It wouldn't hurt me to see it again.
I see the green flash as I open my eyes from a blink. The curse goes from Harry's fingers, to Ron, and then Hermione. They all collapse. My hands fly to my mouth, stifling a gasp. There's a hushed silence. People wipe blood and sweat, mixed with tears from their cheeks. I feel my own eyes water.
No, I can't cry. It's just not right for me to cry! Damn it, why am I starting to cry?
Maybe I actually liked them.
Maybe I wanted to be friends with them when the war was over.
Hell, maybe I wanted to see Voldemort die, too.
Maybe I'm delusional.
I'm praying that it was the fourth one. No way in hell did I like them. And Voldemort dying would be the death of my family.
I have to nail my feet to the ground to keep from running over and seeing if Potter, Granger and Weasley are awake. They can't die. They're not allowed. Damn it, they're the good guys. They're too young. Only the good die young, my inner-voice whispers. I shut my eyes tight, trying to keep the tears from spilling over the ledge of my eyes. I try not to let the skin under my eyes erode and let the waterfall burst.
I wait until the commotion starts. Everyone starts rushing to the Golden Girls. I make my way over. I should be the dead one. I betrayed Voldemort. I played both sides. I told the Order Voldemort's plans. I should be dead.
I feel arms pulling me back. I don't care. I flail my arms so that I can get to my enemies. I fall to my knees beside Granger. Her chocolate brown eyes are lifeless and dry. A tear of mine hits her eye, making it glimmer with life for one last time.
Holy mother of Merlin. The dark side won. The world is going to be thrown into turmoil. We're all gonna be evil. Only Harry could beat him. I feel myself fall. The last thought that ever crossed my mind flickered for a minute: I wish I were dead.
And then my loyalties were decided.